My name is Robert Thompson, just another forgotten face among the many veterans who lost their legs in the service of this country. Booby traps in urban warfare, they warned us about it, trained us for it. But training and the brutal reality of war, they're worlds apart. It's a miracle that I'm still breathing in my 60s, dwelling in the shadows of the streets, homeless and legless. Here I am, wasting away alongside some junkies. Life seemed bleak, devoid of purpose.

Then there's my buddy, Jacob. Poor guy, haunted by PTSD. War never left him; it comes back to him in flashes and nightmares. Yet, in those rare moments of respite, when the war isn't playing out in his mind, he's a marksman beyond belief. Jacob can shoot with his eyes closed – a skill bordering on the supernatural. It's just the two of us, veterans cast aside in the unforgiving streets of New York.

Everything changed when those men in uniforms found us. They saluted us, acknowledging our service to a nation that seemed to have abandoned us. But the sight of that Umbrella icon, it brought back memories – memories we could never erase. Umbrella Corporation, the company that offered a glimmer of hope. They recruited veterans like us. I was ready to become a lab rat, anything to escape the streets. Jacob felt the same way.

But it wasn't what we expected. They posed a question, and I quote, "Sergeant Robert Thompson and Corporal Jacob Hopkins, have you ever wished for a chance at a new beginning, a chance to rise above the shadows that have consumed your past? Umbrella Corporation offers a unique path – a chance for rebirth. Will you step into the unknown, embracing a mission that promises to make you more than human, to protect and be protected in a world where shadows dance? Your past doesn't define you, but your future could redefine everything. Do you want to change your life and become something extraordinary?" End quote.

Jacob and I didn't hesitate. Little did we know that we were about to become part of a corporation standing on the precipice of changing the world.

They took us into a facility, and yeah, I sensed the subtle brainwashing crap going on. I mean, I'm not a fool. But what choice did we have? The streets or some shady corporation's experiments? So, here I am, embracing whatever straws I can to change my life.

About a thousand of us, veterans for sure, judging by the way they moved – trained soldiers, ready for action anytime. What greeted us weren't cold machines or lab coats; it was a bunch of pretty girls dressed in nurse uniforms and doctors treating our injuries. They fed us, bathed us, gave us new clothes. Within a week, we were good as new.

Then came the lab. I asked one of the nurses if it would hurt. She said, "It would hurt a lot, Jacob. A small price to pay for the return of your legs and youth, no?" She had this Asian accent, probably Filipina. I'd been to the Philippines during World War 3, or maybe I'm just losing it. Anyway, they strapped us into these beds, and the doctor said, "Grit your teeth. It'll be over soon, and you'll feel brand new. We assure you." I nodded, and they slapped leather straps on our mouths – I guess to keep our teeth intact. Then they injected something into my neck or spine; hell, I don't remember. But it hurt like a bitch for a good 30 minutes. Felt like my body was on fire.

Blacked out a few times, heard the grunts and screams of the veterans around me. After a while, the screaming stopped, and they cut the straps loose. I felt like a million bucks. Checked my legs – there they were, like they never left me. They freaking grew back. Looked in the mirror they provided, and bam – face in my 30s. Said to myself, "Well, I'll be damned." Glanced at the others; they were just as amazed.

The doctors and nurses waved, bid their goodbyes, and the moment they left, a stern-looking man entered, flanked by Umbrella soldiers. Drill sergeant vibes all over him. "Attention!" he barked, and we snapped to attention, muscle memory kicking in. The man, William, or Sir as he insisted, punched the metal bed, bending it in half with his bare hands. He looked at us and said, "Today marks the beginning of your transformation. Leave your past behind. Now, you're soldiers of Umbrella. I'm assigned to turn you gentlemen into top-tier soldiers worthy of the powers Umbrella bestowed upon you. Do you understand?!" Loud and clear, we replied, "Sir, yes, sir!"

In the next few weeks, our skills got a refresh, and training kicked into overdrive – I'm talking hell week kind of crazy. The most insane part? We practiced dodging bullets. Yeah, you heard me right. First time around, a lot of us bit the dust, or so we thought. Turns out, getting shot felt more like being hit with rubber bands, but those high-caliber ones stung like hell. William informed us that while we could take a beating, a shot to the brain would still do us in. So, yeah, gotta protect the noggin.

They injected something called Las Plagas into us, a sort of parasite that turned us into superhumans. Lifted 6,000 kilograms while sprinting, punches hitting 800 kilograms, kicks packing twice the wallop – it's like being Superman without the laser eyes and the ability to fly. And the best part? Umbrella somehow cured Jacob. No more PTSD flashbacks, which is a relief.

Most of our training focused on dealing with what Umbrella calls "The Immune" – simulations on how to take down superhumans, specifically those from Sentinel Corp.

Our training covered anti-special forces combat and anti-biohazard combat. Yes, you read that right. Acrobatics, scaling walls like Spiderman, shooting in unstable positions – you name it. Jacob ended up in my squad, and then there were the Tyrants. Big, bulky, exceptionally strong – they were like walking tanks. I witnessed a Tyrant throw a car at our squad as part of training, and our mission was to take it down. Easier said than done. Those things were fast and strong. One of my squadmates got caught in its hand, and it wasn't a pretty sight. The guy got squished. But with Umbrella medics on standby, they gave him some sort of nutrition liquid, and a few hours later, he was good as new. Umbrella Corporation is on a whole different level compared to any other organizations I've ever known – not that I've been a part of many, just the U.S. Army. But I'm pretty sure even the army doesn't have Tyrants or superhumans, unless Umbrella's selling them, which wouldn't surprise me at this point.

Part of our training involved teaming up with Umbrella B.O.Ws, and initially, I thought these creatures were nightmares brought to life. Lickers, Hunter Variants, and Tyrants – we got briefed on the various B.O.Ws in Umbrella's arsenal. We were assured that these bio-organic weapons recognized Umbrella personnel, which was a relief. I witnessed one of those Hunter variants slice through a steel beam with its mantis-like claws, making me realize that even with my newfound superhuman abilities, getting sliced in half was still a possibility.

Our primary companions in the field were Tyrants, Lickers, and Hunter Variants – mostly Tyrants. We played a supporting role, engaging high-priority targets while the Tyrant unleashed chaos on the opposing forces. These Tyrants were equipped with heavy weaponry – miniguns, rocket launchers, you name it. Our task was to take on opposing superhumans or special forces. What intrigued me was the company motto: "Shaping Tomorrow, Securing Today." It made me believe that this Maxwell Sterling had something significant in the works. Oh, and did I mention that most of our weapons used .50 caliber ammunition? As superhumans, we handled the recoil of machine guns without flinching.

This Maxwell Sterling guy seemed to be planning something big, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was all about.

Max's POV

As I towered over the entourage of President Jasper we moved in a massive facility hidden underneath a rather inconspicuous mountain , my mind swirled with thoughts of the political landscape, the fragile balance between the Renewal Alliance Party (RAP) - The Doves, Purity Front Party (PFP) - The Hawks, and the United Humanity Coalition (UHC) - The Eagles. President Jasper, with his hawkish tendencies, stood among the extremists, the Hawks.

Observing their expressions, it was clear that the Hawks were the ones orchestrating this bio-organic weapons exhibition. The Hawks, the authoritarian party, held more than 50% of the political battleground, with the Doves and the Eagles sharing the remaining 25% each. If the Hawks truly held the reins of America, I calculated that as long as they governed without jeopardizing my financial interests, all was well.

Selling bio-organic weapons and the Inhibitor Vaccine aligned with my grand plan for economic domination. The first step was to cement the idea that America needed Umbrella. Crafting the Inhibitor Vaccine was a strategic move, ensuring that my corporation had a critical role in the nation's healthcare.

With Umbrella's stronghold over the healthcare sector at almost 90%, I controlled the monopoly. Simultaneously, Umbrella claimed 70% of the manufacturing industry. Abandoned factories in the West Coast, casualties of the pandemic, were now revitalized by Umbrella. Securing cities with legions of bio-organic weapons and superhumans was a simple task.

In recent months, the number of T-Virus Enhanced Soldiers reached 6,000, with 5,000 being the modified ones from the Store and the remaining 1,000 fresh recruits under observation. The takeover plan was straightforward – identify a survivor group in a city, hire them, provide bio-organic weapons, and task them with gathering survivors. In exchange for their services, Umbrella supplied safety, food, and shelter.

Survivors, working for free, proved effective as long as their basic needs were met. If necessary, providing salaries would be considered, but for now, they toiled for safety and necessities. Instances of betrayal were addressed promptly, with squads of Tyrants led by the local USS swiftly resolving any issues.

The dangerous glint in the Minister of Defence's eyes did not escape my notice. His ties to the CCP and Sentinel Corp were meticulously recorded in my data, branding him a filthy traitor. Eliminating him directly would have severe implications, but I resolved to tip off the President or make preparations in case the Minister made any suspicious moves. In this world, birds die for food, and people die for money—a harsh reality.

President Jasper's welcome to Area 41 set the stage for the exhibition of Umbrella's bio-organic weapons (B.O.Ws) and the Inhibitor Vaccine. The showcase began with the unveiling of a Licker, its mutated form poised in front of the bulletproof glass. A general voiced his skepticism, questioning the creature's vulnerability to headshots.

I responded with a confident nod, "Indeed, the Licker's purpose isn't frontal assaults but assassinations and surprise attacks. It's agile, lethal, and most importantly, silent. It can detect enemies through the slightest noise and vibration and accurately determine its target. Allow me to demonstrate."

Gesturing to the cameras, I revealed another Licker lying in wait on the ceiling. A prisoner, marked with the number 003 on his uniform, was placed in the room, regretting his past actions. The Licker descended with eerie grace, its mutated form moving in a nightmarish dance. The prisoner, oblivious to the impending danger, became the subject of a swift and silent execution.

The observers, a mix of generals, politicians, and scientists behind the safety of the glass, were both fascinated and disturbed by the efficiency of this bio-organic weapon. The exposed brain vulnerability was a deliberate trade-off for agility and stealth, emphasizing its role in covert operations.

"Now, as for the Inhibitor Vaccine," I continued, redirecting their attention. "This is Umbrella's answer to the Hydraxen Virus, a safeguard against its horrors. It ensures control over those within its influence, preventing the virus's spread. A powerful tool in managing potential outbreaks within a certain timeframe, of course."

"The next showcase features the Tyrant, product name T-103," I announced. As another trail opened, the iconic figure of a T-103 Tyrant emerged, adorned in its distinctive trench coat. Simultaneously, a second trail unveiled a multitude of Special Infected, captured by the military and some generously donated by yours truly.

"The Tyrant is immune to bullet fire below .50 caliber, and even then, targeting the head is the only effective method. It regenerates within a maximum of 30 seconds, always returning to its programmed duty. This hulking behemoth is perfect for anti-personnel combat or anti-biohazard operations, especially indoors. No concrete is thick enough to stop it, making the Tyrant a formidable force against both human and infected threats," I explained with a measured tone.

As the demonstration unfolded, the first infected to attack was a Volatile, lunging at the Tyrant. With a swift motion, the Tyrant smacked the creature to the ground, crushing its head beneath its colossal foot. The massacre continued as the Tyrant dealt with the Special Infected. A Smoker's tongue wrapped around its arm, but the Tyrant seized it and used it like a whip, smashing the Smoker and Witch together. The Hunter attempted a daring leap, only to be seized by the Tyrant's massive hand and squished. The display concluded with the Tyrant making short work of the remaining Special Infected, the Boomer meeting its explosive demise.

The observers, a mix of military personnel and scientists, were left in awe of the Tyrant's capabilities. The calculated brutality and efficiency of the T-103 left an indelible mark, emphasizing Umbrella's prowess in bio-organic weaponry and its unyielding commitment to security.

The ground trembled as another trail opened, revealing a colossal figure known as the Tank, a formidable Special Infected known for its immense strength. "It can even kill tanks with ease," I declared, emphasizing the Tyrant's unparalleled power. The two hulking giants faced off, heavy thuds resonating throughout the facility.

The Tank charged at the Tyrant with thunderous force, showcasing its raw might. The Tyrant, however, halted the Tank's charge, demonstrating its strength and resilience. The Tank unleashed powerful punches and thrashed like a gorilla, but the Tyrant, with its calculated precision, blocked one hand to immobilize the Tank and swiftly seized its head. In a quick, crunching motion, the hulking beast fell, defeated by the Tyrant.

A general in the audience voiced concerns, "Is the Tyrant controllable? Does it understand orders? What if it attacks civilians?" These questions were crucial in assessing the feasibility of deploying such a powerful asset in military situations.

I responded confidently, "The Tyrant can recognize and follow orders to the letter, albeit in a somewhat robotic manner. It comprehends simple commands like 'protect,' 'destroy,' and 'eliminate.' It operates through a microcomputer in its mind, ensuring precise execution of given tasks."

Among the military personnel, a mix of amazement and apprehension lingered. The awe-inspiring display of the Tyrant's capabilities left an indelible impact. Some saw the potential for a powerful ally on the battlefield, while others harbored concerns about the fine line between control and chaos.